1.07.2011

"Advice to Myself" by Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigeratorand an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.Don’t even sew on a button.Let the wind have its way, then the earththat invades as dust and then the deadfoaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzlesor the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worrywho uses whose toothbrush or if anythingmatches, at all.Except one word to another. Or a thought.Pursue the authentic-decide firstwhat is authentic,then go after it with all your heart.Your heart, that placeyou don’t even think of cleaning out.That c loset stuffed with savage mementos.Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teethor worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinneragain. Don’t answer the telephone, ever,or weep over anything at all that breaks.Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartonsin the refrigerator. Accept new forms of lifeand talk to the deadwho drift in though the screened windows, who collectpatiently on the tops of food jars and books.Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anythingexcept what destroysthe insulation between yourself and your experienceor what pulls down or what strikes at or what shattersthis ruse you call necessity.